Under the Sycamore Tree
by sophomoric genius
Summary: Real friendship knows no bounderies. Something for the coming holidays. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Under the Sycamore Tree**

By sophomoric genius

**Disclaimer:** Although the plot and characterizations are mine, Ragnarok and all other components of the game are copyright Gravity and Myung Jin Lee.

* * *

It was a chilly autumn afternoon, around five thirty. I stepped out of the old, white-washed building that was our laboratory, and immediately headed south. I am an alchemist, and a creature of habit, order and precision. I have a regular schedule which I keep religiously, and according to my built-in planner, five thirty in the afternoon calls for a slice of cake and some coffee down at Jenna's. 

An alchemist is trained to strive for perfection and settle for nothing but the best. That is why everyday, during five-thirty in the afternoon, I visit the quaint coffee shop located on the outskirts of the town to get myself a cup of flat white and a slice of blueberry cheesecake. I could easily brew potions that would restore a dying person to near-perfect health, or triple the mana of a drained mystic, but I could never quite make coffee to taste the way the people at Jenna's do. It is, simply put, the best.

I entered the shop and immediately went behind the counter to the kitchen. I heard a female voice call out to me in alarm. I stopped and turned.

"I'm sorry, miss, but you can't just go in there!"

She must be new. I saw another waitress lean over and whisper, "It's okay. She's the owner's sister."

Actually, I was part-owner. The café was Jenna's idea, and with the amazing skills of an old family friend, Tess, and my so-called merchant prowess back then, it became a reality. It eventually became successful enough for them to open another branch in Geffen.

"Oh," the new girl looked at me apologetically. "Sorry."

I gave her a small smile and went on to the kitchen to get my cake. When I went back to the counter, a cup of flat white was waiting for me.

"Thanks, Tess," I nodded at the plump, middle-aged woman in a black apron, who only waved me away.

With the steaming cup in one hand and a small plate in the other, I weaved my way through the uniquely-designed tables and chairs to the area under a Sycamore tree. It was my place, a spot that was exclusively mine, not only because it was autumn and leaves were constantly falling everywhere, but more likely because instead of the picturesque river that ran on the other side of the coffee shop, one's view would consist of the back alley filled with tightly-packed shanties and their clotheslines. But I didn't really mind. I'm sick of that stupid river anyway.

I was halfway through my cake when, for some reason, my eyes decided to travel up the tree. They were met with a vision of a scruffy boy with his legs dangling in the air, directly above my meal.

"Hi," he greeted me with a toothy grin.

"Hi," I answered curtly, lowering my gaze, hoping that that was the end of it and he'd just leave me alone. I never really liked kids. They're too noisy and nosy—nothing but a pain in the a, in my opinion. That one looked like he lived in one of those tenements too.

Unfortunately, my gut feeling was right. There was a bit of shuffling, resulting in a rain of wilted leaves down my table, followed by a dull thud of bare feet on cobblestones. I used my fork to pick out the leaves that fell on my cake and coffee with a look of annoyance, silently cursing of the scene that was bound to follow.

And sure enough, the boy—he couldn't have been more than five or six—stood beside my table, looking curiously up at me. I turned to him with a sigh. "What?"

He merely gave me another one of his huge grins. He continued to stare at me, with that goofy expression on his face, and I just stared back, a small frown on mine.

His light blond hair stood up all over his head, with pieces of barks, leaves and seeds all over. His light blue eyes were incredibly huge, almost too large for his tiny, scrubby face. His ears were too. He looked like some wide-eyed elf-kid.

"Clay!" a voice—the same one I heard earlier—cried. The new waitress hurriedly came over and grabbed the boy by the shoulder. She turned to me and bowed lightly. "I'm so sorry." Then she turned and walked away, pulling him along. "I told you not to bother anyone!"

"But I wasn't bothering her, ma," I heard the boy reply. "I was just looking at her. I think she's very beautiful."

I almost choked on my coffee.

_What the hell…_

I may not think of myself as ugly, but I was most certainly not 'very beautiful.' Just…decent I guess. I've got a couple of assets of my own, but I wasn't one to spend a lot of time on vanity. I work inside a laboratory ten hours a day, six days a week, with nothing but funnels and herbs and chemicals to admire my gorgeous self—why bother? And I wasn't the type who didn't need the fixing up either. I simply wasn't one to be called 'attractive,' let alone 'very beautiful.'

_Maybe it's those eyes. They're way too large to be any good._

I shook my head and chuckled.

* * *

It was five thirty and I was sitting on my table at Jenna's, sipping on my flat white. 

"I think you're very beautiful."

This time, he was standing beside the tree.

I raised an eyebrow. "Really."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Uh huh." Walking over to the seat opposite mine, he pulled it out and sat down. My other eyebrow went up as well.

"My name's Clay."

He was beaming at me. I glared back at him.

It went on for several long minutes—he grinning at me with those disproportionately large eyes, and me silently, desperately trying to intimidate his freaky gaze off my face.

I cracked. With a frustrated sigh, I took out my wallet and lifted out a hundred zeny bill. "Here kid. Now get lost."

He did not even look at the money. "No, thanks."

My jaw almost dropped. _What, does he want **more**? Well he isn't getting any, the duplicitous little bastard._

"Then what do you want?" He was seriously starting to annoy me.

"Your name." Still with that huge, goofy grin.

"Fine," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "It's Randy."

That managed to wipe his ridiculous puppy-dog look off, replacing it with a bewildered one.

"But that's a boy's name."

I shrugged. "So?"

He just sat there, watching me. I did my best to ignore him.

"Clay!" the waitress came up, looking disapprovingly at the boy. "Didn't I tell you to stay with your grandpa?" She took him by the hand, apologized to me, and then stomped off with the boy on her heels.

"Why do you keep on bothering that lady?" I heard her ask in an exasperated tone.

"Because I like her, ma. I think she's very beautiful."

_There is something seriously wrong with those eyes._

* * *

Five thirty. I was eating my cake under the Sycamore tree. 

"You're really very beautiful even with a boy's name, Randy."

_Here we go again._

It was starting to become a routine. The wretched boy was becoming part of _my_ routine. Those gods really have some twisted and perverse sense of humor. Maybe they thought I was too emotionally unavailable that I couldn't even get a decent conversation from my own kind. Was I so pathetic that the gods had to intervene in order for me to have more than two minutes' worth of interaction with a living human being? And what did they give me? A six year old kid with an eye problem. I guess my mere mortal brain could never discern the complexities of the divine. Right. All hail Odin.

This time, the boy had some paper and crayons with him. He pulled the chair and sat opposite me, giving me his trademark toothy grin. "I wanted to draw you."

"You're kidding me."

It was getting more ridiculous by the second. Twisted and perverse. I could only handle so much.

He shook his head. "Don't worry, I'm good at drawing. My ma says so." He picked a pink crayon and drew an oblong. "I just wanted to make sure I don't forget how beautiful you are."

"Whatever." Why was I even fighting it? Here's someone who worships me willingly and for free. Never mind that he's fifteen years younger than me. At least he's not asking for anything in return. Well, not yet anyway.

He sat there, quiet as a cramp, absorbed with his work, glancing up at me every now and then. I saw him make two copies.

"Claaaay!"

I didn't know his eyes could grow even larger, but it did the moment he heard the sound of his mother's angry voice. He hastily finished his drawing and shoved one of the papers towards me.

"This one's for you," he told me just as the waitress reached my table.

She glared at the boy, took him by the arm and, this time completely forgetting about me, pulled him back inside the café. "Do I have to keep you in chains, Clayton? What do I have to do to keep you from disturbing the people here?"

"But ma, I can't help it if I like her because she's--"

They were already too far inside and I wasn't able to catch his last words, but I knew exactly what they were. I looked down at the boy's drawing. It wasn't anything special—a pink oval shape for my face, a couple of green dots for my eyes, long brown waves for my hair and a cherry red line for my mouth. He didn't even draw my nose, which was the one feature I was personally proud of.

_It's not just the eyes. That boy's out of his mind._

But for some reason, the corners of my cherry red lips were twitching upwards.

* * *

Five thirty. Where else would I be but Jenna's? 

And who else would I be with but that kid?

"So, do you know how to do it?" He cradled his inquisitive little face with both his hands, his elbows propped on the table.

I looked at him from the rim of my coffee cup. "Do what?"

"Turn ordinary metal into gold. That's what alchemists do, right?" His light blue eyes suddenly brightened up. "I bet you know how to do it."

I snorted. "That's a myth. No one can turn metal into gold."

His forehead wrinkled in a frown. "But you're an alchemist!"

"So I am. Very good, genius," I couldn't help mumbling with a roll of the eyes.

"You're supposed to turn metal to gold," he insisted. "That's what you do!"

"Says who?" I countered with a bemused look.

"My pa." The boy's expression softened. "He was an alchemist too. He worked real hard. He told me he's almost got it. But then he died." He turned his gaze at me and quickly veered back to the original subject. "What do you do then?"

"Potions," I said with a shrug of the shoulders. "I work for a company that develops and manufactures all sorts of potions for the King's armies."

He looked at me sadly. "That's too bad."

One of my eyebrows instantly shot up at his words. But before I could retort, he suddenly jumped down of his seat, apparently spotting the disgruntled figure of his mother making her way towards us. "I have to go. See you tomorrow, Randy!"

He ran over to his mom and met her halfway, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I'm sorry ma," I heard him say before she could utter a single disapproving word. "But she's really beautiful and I like her so much. Don't worry ma. Randy doesn't mind, ask her."

The waitress' eyes wandered uncertainly at me. I somehow managed a forced smile. She hesitantly smiled back, guiding his son inside the shop. The boy gave me one last mischievous grin before disappearing behind the counter.

_Metal to gold, huh. That kid's a piece of work. _

…_And I'm getting soft. Dammit._

--to be continued--


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:** I forgot to mention that the 'holidays' I was referring to were Holloween, All Saint's Day and All Soul's Day. And that there are only two chapters in this fic, this being the last. Oh, and that this is dedicated to and inspired by my kid cousin. He's my very own 'magic mirror on the wall' and I love him to death. Thanks for reading. Comments are most welcome.

* * *

It was five thirty and I was seated at my spot, as usual. 

But this time, I brought over another plate of cake.

Surprisingly though, the kid was nowhere in sight. I had such a bad day and was actually looking forward to a bit of his enthusiastic chatter, just to brighten things up a little. The workstation near mine literally exploded to smithereens sometime midmorning, taking a huge chunk of my own place with it too. Almost half the building was destroyed. It was a disaster. There were dust, rubble, broken glass, herbs, chemicals, and body parts strewn all over. Priests and medics soon rushed at the scene, rescuing as many people as they can. I could only stand and gaze numbly at them. It felt so unreal, like I was watching from the outside. I saw their faces, but they were all so blurry. I heard their shouts and cries, but it too was muted. My senses seemed to function, but just barely. I looked down at myself. Hands, feet—they seemed to be in their proper places. But for some reason I felt incomplete, as if the explosion took a piece of me with it as well.

I closed my eyes tightly for a full three minutes, just trying to push the image away from my mind. When I finally decided to open them again, I looked around the small coffee shop. The riverside area was full, as usual. There were a couple of customers inside as well. But still no Clay. I noticed that his mother was not around either.

I glanced at my pocket watch that I placed on the table top. Five forty-eight.

I continued to sit there, sipping on my coffee, until a deep, resounding sound gently shook the city. The elaborate hands of the clock tower had finally struck six. I lowered the cup to the table and stood up.

_Fine. This will be the first and last time I'm getting you a cake._

* * *

He didn't show up the next day, or the day after. 

I would never admit to it outright, but I was starting to get worried.

And I wasn't feeling any better either.

* * *

I wasn't sure how many days had passed. But it was five thirty and I was under the Sycamore tree. 

And he was there.

"You're clean" were the first words out of my mouth. And he was. Clean, that is. His hair was neatly combed, his cheeks scrubbed pink, his clothes neatly ironed. In spite of his gigantic eyes and ears, he looked quite handsome, actually.

He only gave me his lopsided smile and sat on the opposite chair. "My ma fixed me up."

"About time too. Though I must admit, I think the scruffy look suits you better."

He fixed me his usual goofy stare. Somehow, I didn't feel as uneasy as I used to be.

"I missed you, Randy." His voice was soft and earnest. "I'm glad you're still beautiful."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I see your change is only skin deep. But you really ought to stop calling me that."

He cocked his head to one side. "Why?"

I just shrugged. A group of young boys suddenly ran past us towards the back alley.

"Why don't you play with them?" I asked him, changing the subject.

"I'd rather stay here with you. I like you better. You're so--"

"Enough with that crap," I interrupted with a groan. "You're supposed to be out there playing and doing whatever it is six-year-olds do instead of sitting there like some sort of crazed fanboy. You're hiding something. Spit it out."

He looked down at his dangling feet. "I used to play with them before."

"And?" I prompted. "Did they hurt you? Bully you?"

"No," he shook his head, still looking down. "Not really."

"Then what? What happened?"

"They stopped seeing me, I guess."

I frowned.

"But it's okay," he hurriedly continued, his eyes finally traveling upward to meet mine. "I don't want to play with them anymore either."

Before I could even open my mouth in reply, he suddenly jumped out of his seat. "I have to go now."

Looking around, I expected to see his mother stalking towards us. But she wasn't. Odd.

"My ma's not here right now," he told me, noticing the confused look on my face.

"Oh. Is she sick?" Perhaps that was the reason for his long absence.

But he shook his head, still smiling. "I really have to go now. Bye, Randy!"

And he was gone. And I was still frowning.

_Something's not right._

* * *

My apartment was small but it had a bed and an unlimited supply of hot water which suited me just fine. I had the usual furnishings: a small couch and side table on the living area, a book case on one side of the room and a shelf filled with my private stash of potion ingredients and curiosities on the other. Flasks and beakers were neatly stacked alongside my pots and plates in the kitchen. Opposite the kitchen was the tiny bathroom, and next to that was my bedroom. 

I had just taken my evening shower and was standing in the middle of my apartment, toweling my hair and looking around. My scrutinizing eyes covered everything, from the coat rack beside the door, to my funnel collection. Everything seemed to be in their proper place. But for some reason, I couldn't seem to shake away the feeling that something's amiss.

Still feeling unsettled, I walked back to my bedroom and decided to just sleep it off.

* * *

_Randy._

I woke up with a start.

It was uncharacteristically cold. I pulled the blankets up my chin, and tried to fall back to sleep.

_Randy._

There it was again. The voice was soft and familiar. It was probably just part of a dream but I sat up in bed and fumbled around for the bedside lamp anyway. The faint yellow light slowly filled the room. I turned around and nearly screamed in fright.

I had to take in a few deep breaths before I managed to croak, "Clay? What the hell are you doing here?"

He was sitting on the far edge of my bed, peering at me with those extremely large, otherworldly blue eyes.

"I had a bad dream and came to see you, Randy," he said simply.

But my head was spinning. "How did you get in? How did you even know where I live?"

"It was open," he explained, pointing at the slightly ajar windows. The curtains were flapping wildly against the wind. So that's why it was so cold.

But I never open my windows at night.

"I followed you home once," he continued, gazing innocently up at me. "I hope you're not mad. I just wanted to see you."

"But it's…" I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. "Three in the morning!"

"And I wanted to give you this too." He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pajamas and handed it over to me.

I continued to scold him. "Couldn't this wait? You're mom's probably worried sick about you right now!" I angrily snatched the paper and opened it. A childish figure with spiky yellow hair and big blue eyes greeted me.

"That's me," he declared proudly. "I had to give it to you now so you won't forget about me." He suddenly sprung at me and grabbed my hands, his luminous eyes pleading. "Promise me you won't forget! Promise!"

"Okay, okay! I promise!" I backed away and wrestled my hands from his grasp. "Geez, Clay! What's gotten into you?"

He sat back down at my bed and broke into a huge, content smile.

"I suppose I'm gonna have to bring you home." I sighed and stood up, tugging at the oversized shirt I was wearing. "I'll go get dressed. Stay there, okay."

"I'll never forget you, Randy," he called out as I went out the bedroom door.

I only snorted in reply.

But when I came back, he was nowhere to be found.

I went to the windows and peered outside.

I lived on the third floor. There was a huge tree right outside my building but it was way too far from the window. Unless he had magically sprouted wings or learned to levitate, he could never have entered or left through there.

Pulling my windows shut, I went back to bed, the unsettling feeling rising in the pit of my stomach.

* * *

Five thirty. 

I was still back in the kitchen when I heard several workers talking.

"Poor Sara. She's devastated."

"Well, of course. It was a tragedy—he's simply too young. And he was such a sweet kid too."

"Tsk, tsk. What was he doing near that laboratory anyway? He should've been in the park, playing with children his age."

"He was probably following Randy. He's quite obsessed with her, you know. I honestly wonder why."

"I know what you mean. Oh, well. I guess it's another case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, huh."

"So she's going to take him back to Prontera?"

"That's what I heard. I think they're leaving this evening. I'm not sure what time exactly though."

"I feel so bad for Sara, you know. I mean I don't know what it feels like to loose a child, but I'm sure it's real tough."

"Yeah. Hey, table four wants you."

And the conversation ended. I leaned on the kitchen counter, my mind reeling.

_Loose a child? In the laboratory? That means…_

I was almost afraid to go back to my spot under the tree. But why should I be afraid of him? He adores me. And the truth is, I adore him just as much. Why should Death, if he really is involved, change anything?

I took my cake and coffee and headed out. There he was, waiting patiently for me. I glanced around, wondering if the others could see him as well. But nobody was looking at him. Or me for that matter. I went on my way.

"I can't stay long," he told me right away. He looked nervous.

I sat down, smiling gently. It was the first time I ever smiled at him. "You're leaving."

"I don't want to, but my ma says it's for the best." He thought for a while. "She's always crying lately. I don't want to give her a hard time."

"I understand. Go take care of your mom."

He suddenly gazed up at me, his enormous blue eyes piercing mine. "You'll keep your promise, right? And take care of my drawings?"

"What do you take me for?" I scoffed. "Do I look like someone who easily forgets her friends?"

His anxious face brightened up and he rushed over, wrapping his flimsy hands around my waist.

"Thank you, Randy."

Then he stood on his toes and kissed me lightly on the cheeks.

And he was gone.

* * *

"He's kinda cute but don't you think he's a tad too young for you?" 

I whipped around. "Jenna! What are you doing here?"

"Well, it is my coffee shop, you know," she said with a quiet laugh. My sister walked over to the chair Clay vacated.

"What happened? You're supposed to be in Geffen." I looked at her suspiciously. She was wearing her priestess robes, which wasn't really unusual since she's actually one. But she was also wearing her coif. She only wears them during services, and she hasn't given one in years. Why would she be wearing it now, especially since she's supposed to be heading the café opening in Geffen? And did she just mention Clay?

"You saw him."

She only smiled. "Just as I can see you."

I felt relieved. "Then he's not…"

"Dead?" she finished my sentence for me. "No, he's not. At least not yet. He's seriously injured though. He's been unconscious for more than a week now. His mother is bringing him to Prontera hoping the healers there could somehow revive him." She studied me for a moment. "I think he's just reluctant to leave you though. He's really taken quite a liking to you."

A frown deeply knotted my forehead. "What are you saying?"

She stood up. "Come with me, Randy. I want to show you something."

* * *

The sun was already setting and the world was slowly being taken over by the shadows. I was kneeling down the fresh earth, staring at a small piece of marble that lay in front of me. 

"It was quick and painless. Just the way you wanted it." Jenna was standing a step behind me. "You didn't even see it coming. It was over before you knew what it was."

"I see." I stared blankly at the marble slab. "It makes sense, in a way. I suppose you're here to exorcise me?"

"Not really. You didn't know what happened. Now that you do, it's all up to you."

I ran my fingers through the elegant letters that ran across the stone.

_Miranda Josei Namuriel_

It bore only my name. Just the way I wanted.

"I thought you'd be furious."

A shrug of the shoulders. "I've been feeling a bit tired lately. I suppose I don't really mind."

"You've been slaving for alchemy far too much. I'm glad you met him."

"He kept on calling me beautiful." A small laugh.

"I guess to him you are. Kids see things differently, you know."

Silence.

"Will Clay return to his body?"

"If all goes well."

I closed my eyes and sighed contentedly. "Then I think I'd like rest for a while."

The crescent moon hung silently in the night sky, bathing the entire landscape with its ghostly glow.

Jenna smiled and nodded, savoring the cold autumn air that kissed her cheeks. She whispered one last prayer, then turned around and started walking home.

--end--


End file.
